Sharing is Caring
by animatedbrowneyes
Summary: Santana does not like sharing her things, which ostensibly includes Brittany.


**Title: **Sharing is Caring

**Author: **animatedbrowneyes

**Prompt: **So, Santana finally gets up the courage to come out, and she and Brittany are together. They're very happy, but there's just one problem. Santana and Brittany's cat? Do not get along at all. After one too many scratches and cat-on-the-face incidents, Brittany becomes convinced that Lord Tubbington is plotting against Santana. Santana thinks this is ridiculous - until she sprains her ankle tripping on an inconveniently underfoot cat. Brittany decides that the three of them need to go to family counseling.

Found this prompt on the glee_fluff_meme and with an amused disapprovalApparent—she's a boss—came up with this fic together!

Possibly crack, with Brittana, mention of Bartie, Luck, and ninja!Faberry (can't stop, won't stop). Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Santana Lopez did not like to share her things. She was not one to companionably consent to let others borrow her stuff. She kept it real, and her stuff was <em>her<em> stuff.

It was a well-known fact, even before embracing herself to be with Brittany openly—shut up, she's no chicken—that Santana did not like sharing her things, which ostensibly included Brittany. Obviously. She allowed it, hell, she tolerated the whole 'Barfie' situation as long as possible because Brittany looked...happy, mostly, with Artie CrippleAss, and Sam was a sort-of amusing distraction for awhile and his weird quirks reminded her of Brittany, with the hair and the tendency to be a little slower than most, but when she finally cracked (or, Ms. Holliday knocking some sense into her and having it fester for a long time and singing to Brittany twice) and admitted _what_ she was to McKinley High, Brittany happily insisted they were dating, which was pretty awesome, considering all the heartache they both went through because of her stupidity.

Because using Dave Karofsky as a beard was something _really, _really stupid.

Becoming Brittany's girlfriend entitled her to more time to hang out, usually at Brittany's house, where Santana met the only obstacle to her relationship with the blonde.

Or, the sharing issue of Brittany.

Lord Tubbington, and Charity, two of Brittany's unknowable legion of animals, both with a habit to end her mackin' time with Brittany. On purpose. She knew it.

"Britt, come on," Santana grumbled, eyeing Lord Tubbington's beady little eyes, which leered at her in triumph from Brittany's arms. "You just fed him an hour ago."

"Santana," Brittany scolded, scratching the feline's ears, earning contented purrs in the action, "he's been depressed lately."

"What, so he _binge _eats to cure his broken heart? Little shit."

"Santana!" Brittany yelled, and the cat hissed, flexing its claws warningly in Santana's direction. "You're hurting his feelings!"

"Cats don't have feelings," Santana muttered. Brittany looked annoyed.

"Oh, yeah? Then why does Charity have a big gay crush on you? That's a feeling!"

"What the—are you serious?" Santana yelped, scooting backwards on Brittany's bed as the other cat slinked toward her, flicking its tail. "Ew, get that thing away from me!"

"She loves you," Brittany cooed, and Lord Tubbington looked suspiciously amused at this notion. "Don't be shy! She just wants to cuddle!"

"I don't want to cuddle with your stalker cat," Santana insisted, poking the tabby until it shuffled away in defeat, making Brittany pout, "I want to cuddle with _you_."

"Can't we all cuddle together?"

"No!"

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 1<em>

_ Santana: 0_

* * *

><p>"You know," Santana suggested sarcastically several days later, when Brittany had again abandoned her to hold a smug Lord Tubbington, "maybe he should go on a diet."<p>

Lord Tubbington narrowed his eyes. Santana smirked.

"He can't," Brittany remarked absently, to the demon's delight and Santana's chagrin. "He only eats human food. Like the fondue I serve on Fondue for Two."

"Maybe you should get him on a salad diet. He won't be dragging around that huge lard ass anymore."

"He isn't like Rachel, San. I don't want him to get special vegan powers like she has. He'd get tired easily."

"I'd put him on the Sue Sylvester Master Cleanse," Santana muttered mutinously, poking a hairbrush to deter a mournfully dejected Charity from sitting with her.

Lord Tubbington wobbled in Brittany's grip, looking nauseated and squirming to escape, and with a loud gagging noise, rolled off the bed and threw up on Santana's shoes.

"_Puta!_" Santana screamed, jumping up from her seat and sprinting after the surprisingly speedy cat. "I'll castrate you, you son of a bitch! Get back here!"

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 2<em>

_Santana: 0_

* * *

><p>"I don't get it," Brittany mumbled, holding up a package of half-full cigarettes in complete confusion. "Lord Tubbington, I've <em>told<em> you. You can't smoke anymore."

Lord Tubbington blinked.

"Yeah, you'll be even uglier than usual," Santana added under her breath, ignoring the absurdity of such an accusation. The cat growled. Santana bared her teeth.

"Santana, please don't pick a fight. He's sensitive."

"I'm sensitive. He ruined my shoes."

"It was an accident."

"An accident," Santana repeated dubiously with an eye roll. "Right. Britt, that little monster has it out for me since day one."

"Santana, Lord Tubbington doesn't have a crush on you, _Charity_ does," Brittany replied patiently, patting a dozing, sulky Charity for being ignored by the Latina once again.

"I meant he's trying to mess me up," Santana explained, irritable. "He interrupts us all the time, ruins my stuff, scratches me when you aren't in the room with us—"

"He's kneading," Brittany replied brightly. "That means he likes you. I looked it up on Wikipedia."

"You know what?" Santana questioned. "I have a great idea. To show how much I like him, we can take him to the vet."

"The vet?" Brittany echoed, curious. "Why?"

"He needs a little operation," Santana grinned. "It's no big deal. Every guy can get it. Snip, snap, and then...oh, I guess he's leaving! Let's get _our_ cuddle on. Now."

Lord Tubbington stalked from the room in a huff in order to avoid capture and threat of the dreaded surgery, tail high in the air, while Santana silently cheered in victory.

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 2<em>

_Santana: 1_

* * *

><p>"Again?"<p>

"He's lonely, Santana. Charity doesn't want to be his girlfriend. She went through a bad breakup and is afraid of another relationship with a bad boy."

Santana crossed her arms in annoyance, and when Brittany's back was turned, grabbed the pot of fondue, tiptoed to the hallway, and left it on the floor, opening the cover.

Lord Tubbington darted outside to meet her, and when he hustled over to obliviously devour the melted cheese, Santana dashed back to Brittany's room and shut the door.

_Like luring a kid with candy_, the brunette thought smugly.

"Where's—"

"Eating the cheese," Santana shrugged innocently, and smirked. "Want to play Puck's version of poker?"

Brittany grinned.

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 2<em>

_Santana: 2_

* * *

><p>Santana sat awkwardly on Brittany's bed with Lord Tubbington, while the blonde was editing a new Fondue for Two, and both enemies were companionably motionless.<p>

Lord Tubbington's claws flexed pointedly, rudely, in Santana's space, and the Latina glared at him in challenge.

"Cut me and I'll set you on fire. Don't you like smoking?" She hissed, and Lord Tubbington meekly inched away, while Santana nudged a sad Charity to leave with her foot.

"Freak," the brunette mumbled irritably.

The cat meowed, heartbroken, and lumbered to a corner, where a tattered book, full of Brittany's loopy writing, laid open for the cat to sit by. Santana's eyebrows rose.

The diary? What the fuck? Brittany was right?

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 2<em>

_Santana: 3_

* * *

><p>"This is stupid," Santana grumbled.<p>

"Santana, don't be rude," Brittany puffed, holding a wriggling Lord Tubbington in her arms while Charity was nowhere to be seen. "We have to do this."

"This is...unexpected," Ms. Pillsbury commented tentatively, looking pale. "Um...why did you...bring your cat to school, Brittany?"

"We need some...counseling," the blonde explained apologetically. "We're having some trouble."

"With what?"

"Santana and Lord Tubbington are having some issues," Brittany answered. "He broke her ankle."

Santana nodded sagely. He totally did. She was walking downstairs to grab a snack for Brittany and conveniently, the cat practically zoomed past her, making her ankle twist the wrong way and an entire tray of food to fall on her sprawled body and further into in complete humiliation. Adamant that the pair not explain _why_ Santana was injured, Santana willingly allowed Rachel to go into a tangent about Nationals and New York and _contributing_ to the team before Quinn coughed deliberately, sounding suspiciously like _janitor's_ _closet_ and Rachel lost her train of thought, before concluding her speech distractedly, red in the face, and excused herself, only for Quinn to follow with a smirk. Santana was too tired to analyze it and then too angry at Brittany, who decided that they needed family therapy to fix this big problem with Lord Tubbington.

"I don't understand the issue," Ms. Pillsbury admitted.

"The cat hates me," Santana countered flatly. "Brittany wants a solution. Personally, I think it should be euthanized, or decapitated. Either one."

"Santana, what is—"

"Don't answer that," Ms. Pillsbury interrupted hastily. "Okay, um...well, why don't you designate days...a schedule of sorts with Brittany?"

"What?" Santana shouted. "I have to _schedule_ days with _my_ girlfriend and her goddamn _cat_? What the fuck?"

Brittany turned to console Santana while Ms. Pillsbury nervously eyed the cat, hand reaching to her air freshener. The cat sneezed, to the guidance counselor's horror.

Ms. Pillsbury squeaked, flailing with her cleaning supplies and Lord Tubbington took the opportunity to escape, sprinting down the corridor like a bat out of hell and vanished.

"Oh, no!" Brittany yelled, running after the pet. "Lord Tubbington!"

"Great," Santana muttered, disgruntled, and grabbed her crutches, hobbling outside to follow Brittany and leaving Ms. Pillsbury with her unsanitary meltdown. Loser.

* * *

><p><em>Chubbington Alliance: 3<em>

_Santana: 3_

* * *

><p>Santana finally made it to the choir room, where she found Brittany cradling Charity, who'd been creeping Puck and Lauren out by staring at them—brownie points for that one—and saw Lord Tubbington in Rachel's arms, looking content and shooting snotty, disdainful looks at Artie, who looked furious and had scratches all over his hands.<p>

"What...happened here?" Santana questioned, coming to a stop beside the piano.

"What happened to you, gimp?" Puck chortled.

"Shut up, Puckerman," Santana snapped. "Someone, anyone, explain why Charity went AWOL and Wheels is sliced and diced all over."

"I tried to _hold_ Lord Tubbington, because he used to like me," Artie explained grumpily, offended at the idea. "He attacked me."

"Charity was following me," Puck elaborated, embarrassed. "She likes my mohawk."

Lauren snickered.

Charity squirmed, eager to reach her new crush, but Brittany held her tighter, and the feline slumped, disappointed.

"Lord Tubbington was just being mean," Rachel commented in a coo. "What did Artie do to you, boy, huh?"

Santana looked at the cat, who blinked, and looked slowly at Brittany, then to her, and Santana suppressed a snort of laughter. Maybe that was Tubbington's plan all along.

* * *

><p><em>LoChubbington Alliance: Infinity<em>

_Artie: 0_

* * *

><p>"Santana," Brittany pleaded earnestly. "Can they—"<p>

"Fine," Santana allowed sourly, and the cats bounded from the floor, jumping up to cuddle with Brittany, and Santana grudgingly patted Charity's ears.

Okay, maybe she could share her Brittany, just a little.

* * *

><p><strong>END.<strong>


End file.
